Love, Defined
by xxForgotten
Summary: The school paper is asking for Valentines' Day submissions, and an anonymous someone decides to confess. H/D slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Love, Defined

**Author:** xxForgotten

**Pairing(s): **HP/DM

**Setting: **Fifth year, Hogwarts.

**Warning(s): **Slash.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my currently stuck brain, and all that comes from it.

**Summary: **The school paper is asking for Valentines' Day submissions, and an anonymous someone decides to confess. Read on!

A/N: I'm back! I know I haven't updated in ages, but the past year's been insane. I just wanted to let you know that I haven't given up yet :) This isn't a oneshot, though it's hardly going to be anywhere near long either, and it's not as depressing as the others. Enjoy and review!

Some say love is a weakness. Some say love is pain. Some say love is a phantom, one which haunts the hearts of the world each night, scattering tears and scars like rain. I say love is a fool's game, one that none of us can run from. One that all of us are destined to play, and to lose.

Love is Morphine. Something that hurts too much to live without, but at the same time could easily kill with a sleight of hand.

It's staying up late at night, staring at the ceiling and wishing the empty space next to you was warm. It's searching the crowds for a familiar smile, one that constricts your throat and drags your heart into your mouth. One whose absence makes your heart pound in your ears in disappointment.

Love is the force which raises you up to the highest places of bliss... and throws you down like a broken rag doll. Love is irrational. It comes between the strangest people, and condemns their hearts forever.

Love is the perfect dream and the worst nightmare. Love is the light and the dark, all mixed together until all the lines are blurred and there's just no such thing as right or wrong anymore. Some say love surpasses all borders, that it overcomes everything in the end, as if it were some kind of Shakespearean fantasy. I say man created all barriers to limit themselves, because he was too much of a coward to take risks.

Love is the merciless jokester who laughs at the saddest tragedies.

I too am love, the witless fool who sits by the moonlit window with his quill, thinking of you.

What is it to love, or to be loved then? Is it a pair of welcoming arms waiting by the door? Is it an electrifying labyrinth of explosive feelings? Is it, quite simply, to care and to be cared for? Is love confined to decades of mornings of fixing ties, pouring teas, polite good mornings and pecks on the cheek? Is it a sweet white house nestled amongst others in a quiet suburban neighbourhood?

Here I must confess that I know little of love, or rather the different kinds of love, which is what drove me to submit this piece to the student paper when I saw the given topic. I was intrigued to try, and to discover how little I really knew. To me as a child, love was a wall of newspaper at the end of the table during breakfast each day. The word love itself was a taboo, a weapon used against the foolish. There was no love. Respect and admiration, but not love. Never love. Love was, in a million ways where I should never be, yet here I am today.

I have also read of love in various books, and I have heard of its symptoms. I hear we get all jumpy and skittery and butterflies magically appear within us. If you ask me, it sounds more like a caffeine overdose. Or a sugar coma.

The only kind of real love I have come across was not pleasant, but that is all that I will reveal of my love life, since I do not wish to revisit the past, and you probably have no interest in that whatsoever anyway.

I think that love is a far away myth, much like Neverland, or Santy Claus, or whatever other muggle fantasy- which only exists for those who believe in it. It gives up on those who give up on it, but it is never too late to jump back onto the train. Some of us rediscover love late in our years of life. Others never do.

And some- just a microscopic degree of the population- some don't ever stop believing.

I am not ashamed to admit that I never really did give up completely. I have never doubted of its existence, what with all the lovey dovey couples hiding in broom closets and whispering sweet nothings to each other on the towers all over the school. I doubt only if it will ever find its way to me. If I shall ever find someone whose broken heart has shards that fit mine. And, after that, if I will find room in my soul to contain such a thing which tried, over and over again, to break and to blind me.

I do not know why I am writing this down, and even less so why I should ever want the school to know this part of me. Perhaps it is the flickering candlelight that is making my perception blurry. The yellow, flickering candlelight which is throwing broken pieces of shadow on the walls.

I wonder what it feels like to find love. Do we feel an electric current passing through us as they say? Is it a devastating blow that leaves us fighting for air for the rest of our lives? Does it give us a crazed urge to grin like a mad person and spread largess around the world? Does it makes us feel invincible? Is it just a simple tingling, a timid glance and a bubbly feeling within our chests?

Or do we feel nothing at all- nothing but a warm compassion?

If this is love... what should everyone say if they ever found out I were in love with you?

Oh, but that would merely be my nonsensical rambling.

They shall never find out, and I shall never tell. Isn't that the beauty of love? The beauty, which has cost me nights of sleep, while I lay in bed like a lovelorn idiot, with you on my mind. And this does not count as love either, if I seem a little contradictory. Love is not love unless it is returned. Unrequited love is a dull ache, an emptiness, and a general pain in the ass. It cannot, and shall not be expressed in words of any higher class.

The ache is melting into a little puddle whenever I see your smile, and realizing that I'm still solidly there and looking like an idiot whenever you turn away. Emptiness is whenever you stare right through me, whatever I try to do to get your attention.

And _you_. You, my friend, are the pain in the ass.

You, with everything about you that makes me just about as eloquent as a hippogriff when you look at me. You, and everything you have that makes me feel so unworthy. You, and the way you tear my love apart. But that was hardly love, was it?

You, with how you make do unintelligent things I would never have done on a normal basis. Things I would have despised in my normal frame of sanity. You, who made me write this all out while depressed and fatigued and confused. Who made me reveal far, far too much about myself. Who is making this less coherent by the second.

You, who would never accept me.

And I, who would never be worthy.

Which is why I shall submit this to the student paper anonymously, to save myself the scarlet, burning shame of reality when this finally hits me. If it ever will.

For the better part of the night is now long gone, and the sun shall be appearing any second, illuminating me, the halfwit who is still drunk over the sparkle in your eyes, wishing you would be here to admire the sunrise beside me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Love, Defined

**Author:** xxForgotten

**Pairing(s): **HP/DM

**Setting: **Fifth year, Hogwarts.

**Warning(s): **Slash.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my currently stuck brain, and all that comes from it.

**Summary: **The school paper is asking for Valentines' Day submissions, and an anonymous someone decides to confess. Read on!

A/N: A little bit cheerier and more nonsensical than I usually am, but who says that's a bad thing at all?

...

Draco Malfoy was not having a good day.

He'd spent the better part of the previous night tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep until five in the morning. He had therefore woken up thirty minutes later than usual, which had disrupted his morning routine in the one of the worst ways possible.

Then he had found out, while attempting to take a quick shower to save the precious time he had lost, that he was out of shampoo.

And it didn't help that Crabbe and Goyle were arguing vehemently again in the next room, the rumbling sounds carrying over to his quarters and giving him a vicious migraine. For all he knew, they could be arguing over which of them had a more distinct lack of brains than the other.

It didn't help that his first lesson was Potions, something that would require his utmost attention. Or that Snape was in a spectacularly foul mood which was seemingly even worse than his own. Not that it would be surprising for Snape, of all people, to be in a bad mood.

And it was such that a slightly more bedraggled than usual Draco Malfoy strode out of the dungeons alone an hour later with all the dignity he could muster, leaving his two hulking companions behind as they bickered.

He had been making his way towards the library for his free period before a hand, attached to half an arm, appeared out of mid- air and grabbed him.

Then there was a sharp tug, and a warm hand over his mouth, a stray thought coursing through his mind. _Bloody hell. I always knew muggle movies messed with your sanity._

He was pulled down a deserted hallway, and pushed into an abandoned classroom. He heard the lock click behind him.

"What the hell?"

Footsteps neared him, and a folded note was shoved roughly into his hand. He opened it, smoothed the parchment out gingerly, and scanned the haphazard script.

...

Dear Mr Malfoy,

I am sorry to inform you that your piece has not been chosen to be published in the school paper due to improper use of words.

...Oh, what the hell. Yes, I know it's you. But don't worry. It's just me. I intercepted your... your nonsensical rambling, as you like to call it. Just in case you might want to reconsider. It seemed a little... personal.

Yes, I'm on the school paper's editorial team. Surprise. Your feminine script was quite easily recognizable, you know? That, and the extravagant choice of words and excessive bitterness and sarcasm. The description of Lucius helped too. Funny, considering you're usually the pro at hiding things away from people. So much for Slytherin pride, huh. I guess you _are_ pretty much head over heels.

I was actually kind of surprised when I read what you'd written, and I'm sorry to say I understand how it is to grow up without love. I know you're probably rolling your eyes now, if you haven't thrown this letter into the fireplace yet. If this ever makes its way to you before I throw it into my own fireplace.

I don't know why I'm writing this either. I think... I think that something in your writing struck a chord in me. No, please don't throw this away. I want you to read this.

I'm not pretending to be friendly or trying to act like I know everything you've been through, just so you know. I'm not trying to make you soft either, and I don't want to attempt to change you with my Gryffindor thick-headedness. It's something that any human would deserve to know, Malfoy. Even you.

I'm not here to mock you, or make fun at your vulnerability. I know you'd lunge at my throat if I said that to you face to face, so I'm just going to leave it here, in a letter.

I can't say that I know much about love either, but one thing I know is that my mother died for me because of love, which is what made me a believer. I know love exists because of her, and I'm not going to give up on love, however hard it gets. It's the least I can do.

Don't give up on love, Malfoy. I know you believe it exists... well, just trust me when I say that it's going to find its way to you too eventually. Everyone deserves love, and there's plenty to go around. It's just a question on whether or not you're willing to look for it. Well, that and whether or not you'll manage to recognize it when it comes along.

I've noticed a change in you, too. I know we haven't exactly been on the best terms for the past five years, but I've hardly escaped noticing the fact that we haven't fought properly in almost five months. Not that I'm complaining, though. It's just a little surprising. Ron's getting frustrated for not being able to pick a fight to vent his feelings whenever he wants to.

I've noticed that you've become more... civil, if that is the word. Human, maybe. What happened, Malfoy? Was it love?

And what was it about the tip in potions? I'd have thought you'd be overjoyed at seeing the old bat bite my neck off for doing something wrong again. It wouldn't be the first time, you know. Not by a long shot.

...Well, I'm not trying to interrogate you, so you could very well just ignore the previous couple of lines. I guess I was just being curious. I don't expect a reply anyway. The day Draco Malfoy replies to one of my letters with anything less than a stink bomb will be the day Voldemort falls in love, I know. At least that's what would have happened with the Malfoy a year ago. Now, though... I don't know. If it's love behind all this niceness, then I'd say it's pretty bloody amazing.

I guess that's all I wanted to say.

Your submission wasn't half bad, to tell you the truth. We could still publish it, with a little editing.

Only if you want us to, that is. I haven't told anyone else yet.

Well. The choice is yours, Malfoy. I guess I'll see you around.

Cheers,

Potter.

...

Draco looked up and surveyed the empty classroom.

"Potter."

There was no answer.

"Potter. I know you're still there."

There was a soft rustle, and Harry's head emerged from thin air.

"Come out, Potter. That's just creepy."

A sigh, and the rest of Harry appeared.

"This is awkward," He mumbled. "I feel like I should be shouting a hex at you."

"Well, you dragged me into this. Literally."

Harry shrugged, avoiding Draco's piercing glare.

"Well, if that's all, I should be going," Draco smoothed down his rumpled uniform and started towards the door.

"What?" Harry's head snapped up. "That's it? No death threats? No _you're pathetic, Potter_? No _what the hell was that, Potter_?"

One eyebrow shot up. "I'm past childhood insults, Potter. But if you were expecting any..."

Harry flushed and shook his head vehemently.

"Well, then, if you're waiting for me to have an epiphany, I'm sorry to disappoint."

"No, I just..." He flushed an even more violent shade of red.

"Eloquent as usual, Potter."

"It's just that you're so bloody confusing!"

"Confusing,"

"It's like, one minute you're all hexes and insults and scowls, and the next you're actually being civil, and you're writing this... this vulnerable stuff that actually makes you seem human!"

"I grew up, Potter. Accept that."

Harry smiled slowly. "It was love, wasn't it."

"Look, Potter. Just because I'm not cursing your arse off doesn't mean I'm all cuddles and rainbows."

"I'll take that as a yes."

Draco glowered. "I'm warning you, Potter. Don't test me."

"Who was it?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Come on. Spit it. I want to know who it was that made Draco Malfoy change."

"I was hardly ever that evil, Potter. Just mistaken."

"Is my presence affecting you that much?"

_Yes._ "Not really."

"Well, you look like you're undecided between walking out and beating me to a pulp."

"For your information, I could very well do both. Even if I do rarely lower myself to fist fights."

Harry kept grinning. "I know."

"You're an idiot, Potter."

"Oh. The ferret's back."

Draco smirked, half expecting Harry to cool down and back off, but he just grinned wider and extended a hand, which Draco regarded cooly.

"Hi." Harry started. "I'm Harry Potter."

"And I have no bloody idea what you're up to."

"Can we be friends?"

"What?" Draco didn't miss the irony.

"You. Me. Friends."

"I told you, just because I grew myself a head doesn't mean I'm ready to kiss muggleborns and grovel at your feet."

"It's friendship, Malfoy. Not a suicide invitation."

"Are you not going to stop pestering me until I do?"

"Pretty much. Hermione taught me that locking spell. It's awesome."

"Fine." Draco shook Harry's hand, and the Gryffindor beamed.

"Great then, Draco."

"It's still Malfoy for you. And just so you know, I'm not about to go skipping around the hallways calling you Harry either."

"I know." Harry turned to the door and muttered a quick spell. "Bye, Draco. By the way- does that mean you'll allow us to edit and publish your writing?"

"_Malfoy,_ Potter_. Malfoy._ Do whatever you want. Just as long as it's anonymous."

"Awesome. Thanks!" Harry was already halfway out the doorway.

Draco rolled his eyes, and headed out of the classroom. Guessing that the better part of his free period was probably over already, he turned to walk towards the closest prefects' bathroom.

As he looked up into one of the mirrors above the sinks, he realized that Harry's little stunt had messed up his hair far worse than he'd expected.

Just as he had thought that his day couldn't get any worse.

...

A/N: There you go :) I've decided on making this a short, three- part fic. Part three coming soon! Thanks for the reviews, by the way... they really inspire me to keep writing. Cheers!


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Love, Defined

**Author:** xxForgotten

**Pairing(s): **HP/DM

**Setting: **Fifth year, Hogwarts.

**Warning(s): **Slash.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my currently stuck brain, and all that comes from it. The definition at the very bottom isn't mine either, it's from an online dictionary.

**Summary: **The school paper is asking for Valentines' Day submissions, and an anonymous someone decides to confess. Read on!

...

Valentines' Day dawned, bright and sunny, amidst a chorus of wistful female sighs around the castle.

Harry lay awake in his bed, curtains drawn, eyes wide open. None of the boys in his dorm were awake yet, and he found himself thankful for the rare silence.

The windows were open, and the morning air was crisp. Harry found himself longing dearly for a stroll beside the lake, but eventually decided against it. He would do that later. Right now, all he wanted was to lie there, unmoving, enjoying the peace.

The Valentines' Day edition of the Hogwarts student paper would be coming out today, and being a student editor, he already had a copy stashed under his mattress. He had begrudgingly applied to join the board this year, because Hermione had insisted that it would give him something to do, to take his mind off things. Harry didn't know for sure, but he had his suspicions that Hermione just didn't want him to feel left out whenever she went off with Ron to go snog in some random broom closet.

Oh, yes. They had gotten together over the summer at the Burrow, and the whole thing had left Harry rather hollow.

Not bitter. No, definitely not bitter. Just... hollow.

And the fact that he wasn't exactly overjoyed about his friends' happiness made him feel plain awful.

So, all in all, he had to admit that Hermione did, in fact, have a point. He _did_ need to take his mind off things. And it turned out to be more interesting than he'd expected. Quite a number of the Valentines' Day submissions had been amusing- in the sense that it had not been because the author had a particularly keen sense of humor. _Girls_, Harry thought. He'd never understand them.

And then there was Draco's.

Harry had recognized the Slytherin's handwriting almost instantly. After all, who still uses cursive nowadays?

Thus began the huge puzzle that was Draco Malfoy. The puzzle that he didn't even want to think about, because every time he did he wound up feeling funny. It wasn't just confusion. It was something else. Something worse. Something so nerve frazzling that he couldn't put a name to.

However, there was one thing he was certain of. That was the fact that he wanted to know more.

The truth was that he had never really hated Draco. He just hadn't liked the sight of him very much. And when Draco decided that he loathed Harry and set his lifelong goal on making his life miserable, Harry had just supposed that it was only natural to hate him back.

But now Draco didn't hate him anymore, and Harry didn't quite know what to feel.

He could handle insults. He could handle hatred. He could handle hexes. Well... kind of. What he couldn't handle was this new, fragile ground caught somewhere between a truce, civility and a tentative friendship, on which he was still trying to find his balance.

It was true that he had been the one to initiate the whole thing, but when he had confronted Draco, he hadn't known what to expect. A curse, maybe. A shouting match. Anything but the calm that the Slytherin had regarded him with. But they had walked away as friends instead.

Harry could feel a headache building behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut, and decided to get up and take a bath before all the stalls were occupied. He knew that it wouldn't be long before his friends woke up as well, and it was public knowledge that trying to take a shower after sleeping in on Valentines' Day was virtually impossible, because it was a day when everyone wanted to look their best. In fact, he was surprised that he hadn't heard any alarms yet.

Whistling softly to himself, he drew his curtains open and grabbed his clothes from his trunk, before making his way to the showers, hoping to erase the migraine that was Draco Malfoy from his mind.

The water was warm, and Harry let out a contented sigh as it hit the crick between his shoulder-blades, massaging his sore muscles from sleepless nights and Quidditch practice. The steam did little to clear his head, however, which hardly bothered him. Thinking straight meant having to face his problems, something that he was currently hiding from.

Reality could wait for another hour or so.

And if it couldn't, well... he wouldn't mind in the slightest bit if it went on without him.

...

A half- hour later, Harry was fully dressed, squatting under a tree and staring into the depths of the great lake. He spent most of his free time alone, divided between this particular spot and the library nowadays. The library, for its peace and quiet rather than for its knowledge, even though he had taken an interest in literature. It didn't hurt that he had recently discovered a secluded seat at the back of the library that was perfect for afternoon snoozing.

The sun was climbing in the sky, and already he could hear excited chattering from the castle.

He picked up a stray rock next to him, and chucked it into the water with a flick of his wrist. There was a small plop, and a the tip of a gigantic tentacle appeared from the calm surface. Whether in greeting, or as a rude gesture he didn't know, but it was nice to know that he had company, even if it was from an overgrown cephalopod.

"Morning, buddy," Harry said out loud.

The tentacle disappeared, and all that was heard was a faint splash.

"Well, good day to you too," Harry replied with a shrug, staring at the ripples that the movement had created. "It's Valentines' Day, did you know that?"

A bird twittered on a branch above him, and he found himself wondering if the giant squid was just as single as he was. He'd certainly never heard of another squid in the great lake, but love was supposed to transcend all colors, languages and species, wasn't it?

Not that he had any interest whatsoever in the squid's love, or- _merlin forbid_- sex life.

Harry's eyes widened in horror, and he shook his head violently to get rid of the more than slightly disturbing mental pictures. _If I'm spending a Valentines' Day morning thinking about this, I'm either very quickly turning into the most pathetic person to grace the surface of this planet- or just taking a very very quick train ride to insanity. I'm not sure which one I scares me less._

And that was how Harry sat dazedly for another half-hour or so, caught in a trance halfway between shock, wonder, and boredom. It wasn't until a Hufflepuff couple chose to walk over to the shade of the same tree to further their romantic expeditions that made Harry come to his senses and make a rather awkward, but barely noticed escape.

Figuring that it was about time already, Harry made his way to the Great Hall, trying to avoid all the darker passageways that could very possibly contain entangled lovers. For the average person, Valentines' Day was a joyous occasion that called for roses, chocolates and oral hygiene. For Harry, it was a day on which he tried very hard to preserve his sight, and not to feel more than just very slightly bitter.

The Great Hall was just as cheery and full of lively chatter as ever, and Harry noted that Ron and Hermione were in their seats already. _Maybe I spent a little more time than I'd planned on by the lake. _They waved at him, both looking a little more flushed than usual. Harry found his feet carrying him over automatically. He slid into his seat, took a long look at his best friends, and raised an eyebrow at their disheveled appearances.

"Morning, Harry," Ron told him with a bright smile, oblivious to his amusement.

Harry nodded, trying very hard not to laugh. "I assume it was a very good one for you then, Ronnikins?"

Ron flushed violently and stuffed Harry's grinning mouth with a piece of toast, and Harry almost choked in his effort to keep from spraying bits of food all over the table. Harry then turned his attention to an equally flustered Hermione.

"Well, we're dating! What else are we supposed to do apart from... from..." She spluttered, looking at everything but Harry. "Oh look- the student paper's here,"

Ron was extremely grateful for the diversion, as all three of them looked up to find a whole army of owls headed for the tables.

"So this is what you've been working on for a month, Harry?" Ginny asked him from his right, having caught a copy before gravity ensured it reached her breakfast.

"Yep," Harry answered. "I chose some of the pieces for the students' submissions, and I did most of the editing."

"Not the designing then, I hope," Dean muttered, staring down at a bright pink cover page.

"Nope," Harry grinned apologetically. "Not the designing,"

Taking a long look around the hall, Harry realized that most of the school was already flipping through their own copies of the student paper. He grinned at the odd sense of satisfaction, and made a mental note to thank Hermione later. As much as he had detested the post in the beginning, it was turning out to be quite a rewarding experience.

There was a loud sigh, and Harry turned around to find Lavender Brown, who was a few seats away, gazing at the paper with a lovesick expression.

"This is so _sweet_, Harry- whose idea was it to come up with a Valentines' Day special? Was it you, Harry?"

Harry swallowed, mildly startled by the predatory expression in her eyes as she smiled at him. "Um... No. That was actually the headmaster's idea,"

"...Oh."

She sniffed, and turned a cold shoulder to him. Harry sighed in relief. He picked up a fork, catching Ron's sympathetic smile out of the corner of his eye. He returned the gesture, and dug into his breakfast. _Mmm, peanut butter and jelly on toast. Heavenly. Muggle intelligence should be appreciated more, you know?_

Then there was another loud sigh. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, and peeked up from beneath his lashes to see if Lavender was staring at him again.

She wasn't.

"This is positively adorable!" Hermione breathed.

Harry looked up, alarmed at the absolutely un-Hermione proclamation. He reached over to take a look at whatever she was reading, but Ginny was closer. Harry watched mutely, absently munching at his toast, as the youngest Weasley scanned the paper, and promptly dissolved into a giggling puddle of mush in her seat.

"Oh!" She gasped softly. "...But what's morphine?"

Harry relaxed, and felt a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. "It's a muggle medicine, Ginny. A strong pain suppressant that's lethal in large doses."

Ginny considered this for a second. "What's Neverland, then?"

Hermione proceeded to answer Ginny's queries, as Harry leafed through an unclaimed copy lying on the table, pausing to skim through Draco's piece for the millionth time.

_Who'd have thought that Draco Malfoy would have a sensitive side to him?_ He grinned to himself.

He could almost memorize the words by now. And yet, as he reached the end of the piece, he found his eyes transfixed to something that he did not recognize. Something that had not been there when he had handed in his finalized copy.

His heart promptly stopped beating.

"...Who's 'DM'?" He faintly heard Ginny asking interestedly.

"Do you reckon it's a guy or a girl?" Seamus interjected.

"Of course it's a guy!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yep, too possessive to be a girl," Ron agreed, having snatched Hermione's copy.

He swallowed thickly and tried to breathe.

"Hey, Hermione!" Dean yelled. "You're a prefect, right? Don't you have a full list of all the students at Hogwarts?"

_Oh, for goodness sake._

She nodded slowly, an evil grin spreading slowly across her face as she reached into her bag. "I suppose we _could _narrow it down quite a bit... Too bad I'm taken, though. This guy sounds so sweet! I can't wait to know who he is."

Harry looked at Ron, shocked to see that he looked just as eager as she did.

_Crap. Crap. Widen the possibilities. Widen the possibilities. They can't know._

He racked his brains for something to say. "Well, who says it has to be a guy? You have a pretty possessive girlfriend yourself, Ron,"

That shut him up. For the moment, anyway, but it had to be good enough.

Harry chanced another look around, praying, praying that Draco had decided to contract some kind of disease, hurt his hand in Quidditch practice or have a run-in with a Hippogriff. Anything to keep him from having to face him. Anything.

Then his eyes caught on a flash of white- blond, and he knew that he would not survive to defeat Voldemort.

Draco's hair was half- concealing his eyes, but Harry could feel the searing heat of his gaze all the way from across the Great Hall, and he knew without having to look that he was glowering at him. He turned, trying to ignore the fact that his back was getting warmer by the second, and would very likely start smoking, or go into spontaneous combustion within the next five minutes or so.

"Well, I reckon the prose sounds a little mature for it to be one of the first, second or third years," Seamus was saying, as the others nodded enthusiastically.

"So just the fourth to seventh years, then?" Hermione muttered, going over a scroll of parchment. "I don't think there are a lot of 'DM's in this school,"

"How about that new Dana girl from the Ravenclaw Quidditch team? What's her family name?"

"Michaels," Ron supplied helpfully.

"You think it could be her? Ravenclaws _are_ quite literate, after all,"

They looked over to the Ravenclaw table, where the girl was sitting with her head buried in a book.

"Not bloody likely,"

Ginny shrugged. "I thought as much,"

Hermione let out a sudden exclamation. "Daniel!"

"Gryffindor sixth year Daniel?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Nothing... just that he's a bit of a blockhead if you ask me,"

"Well... if it's not either of them, and if we're ruling out the first, second and third years... There's just one person left."

"Let's hear it, then." Ron said excitedly.

There was a sharp tap on Harry's shoulder. He shot up, and emerald clashed into mercury. He gulped.

"...Malfoy,"

"Exactly!" Hermione exclaimed. "How did you... Oh. Never mind."

His eyes were cold, and his voice came out in a low hiss. "Potter. What the fuck. Is this."

Harry shuffled his feet, but said nothing.

"Care to explain yourself, Potter?"

"...N-No, not really. No."

"I trusted you."

Harry looked down, unable to look into his eyes. "It wasn't me. I didn't put it there,"

Draco waited with barely concealed rage for him to continue.

"I didn't tell anyone, I swear." Harry whispered, barely registering that the Hall had gone suspiciously silent, and that all of his friends were straining to hear the conversation properly. Well, all apart from Ron, who was straining out of Ginny's grasp to get up and pummel the Slytherin.

"And I'm supposed to believe that,"

Harry nodded almost imperceptibly. "I swear,"

Draco's gaze bored holes into him, and just as Harry felt like he was surely going collapse like a piece of melted Swiss cheese, a calm voice piped up behind the Slytherin.

"It was me,"

"Blaise?"

"I went after you that day because I wanted to talk to you. I overheard. I just wanted to warn you, Draco. This was just the student paper. Imagine the consequences if it was something worse. If it hadn't been for the fact that I've known you for eight years, I'd have put your full name there."

The boy shot Draco a glance and walked away, and Harry watched as he blanched horribly.

"...Draco?"

He was trembling.

"Are you okay?" Harry reached out to steady the blond, who flushed and jerked away.

"G_et away from me_, Potter." His voice, though shaky, was dangerously low.

"Draco?"

"Get the _fuck_ away from me." Draco closed his eyes tightly. "My father's going to kill me if he finds out."

"About what?" Harry inquired quietly. "About your feelings?"

Draco still wouldn't look at him.

"Draco, you have to tell someone."

"Someone? In case you haven't noticed, Potter, the only somewhat intelligent person I could ever have talked to just sold me out without so much as a blink."

"I'm here." The words fell softly, so that no one else could have heard them. No one but Draco.

"I don't need your help. Save your pity for someone else."

"Draco... Talk to me. You need someone to share this burden with you."

"Not you."

"But who else do you have?" Harry knew he was being cruel, but he saw no other way to get through to the Slytherin.

Draco looked down, his blond fringe obscuring his face. "It's still none of your business, Potter. I trusted you... and look where it got me."

And with that, he turned to walk away.

Harry hopped over the bench and went after him. "Hey wait up!"

Draco whipped around to face him, with barely concealed anger. "Look, Potter. I. Don't. Want. To. Talk, and even less so with you."

"Why?"

The blond's words dripped sarcasm. "Because, in case you haven't noticed, you've been my enemy for five years." He wasn't even bothering to keep his voice down anymore.

"So?"

"So we're not exactly on speaking terms."

"But-"

"Quit it with the single- worded responses, Potter. I'm not in the mood to deal with your insatiable curiosity right now."

"It doesn't have to be this way."

He sighed, but his voice was cold. "It does, Potter. It does. Now go away."

"If you don't want my help, fine." Harry sounded hurt. "But can't you at least tell whoever it is how you feel? You're a mess, and goodness knows you need someone to talk to."

Draco steeled himself, and tried to overcome the whirlwind of emotions within him, his eyes flying open as he fought a losing war.

_Ah, fuck it._

"Look. You want to know who he is? Fine. You want me to tell him? Fine." He closed the distance between the two of them, took Harry's face in his hands, and kissed him. Hard.

All Harry registered was a flash of molten silver as Draco's lips cascaded upon his, before his world exploded into a million shades of red, purple, pink and orange. They were gentle but demanding, chapped but smooth.

Draco poured all he had into the kiss. And he knew that Harry felt it too.

When they finally broke apart, Harry noticed three things. One, there was a salty tang in his mouth. He blinked, and realized that the tears were his. Tears, not of pain, but of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of what was to come. Tears of fear, and tears of joy, because the cavity in his chest was gone without a trace.

Two, Draco was shaking.

Three, the Great Hall had erupted into sound.

Draco was staring remorsefully at him. "Now you know." He whispered.

The confusion in Harry's eyes cleared, and he burst into a grin. "Now I know."

Draco smiled, a genuine smile that warmed Harry right down to a place within him that he hadn't known existed. _Now I know._

A plate whizzed past, just missing the Slytherin's head and landing with a loud crash somewhere behind them. Harry knew without looking that it had come from the general direction of an angry red-head. Draco sighed.

"Ah, bloody hell. I should have seen this coming."

Then he turned around, wand outstretched, and roared. "_Obliviate!_" Harry toppled slightly as a huge power surge went through the Great Hall, leaving everyone in its wake blinking, expressions blank. Draco's face remained impassive. "I had plenty of practice with my father."

"Um. Draco?" Harry asked after a few seconds of complete silence. "Why are my memories intact?"

"The spell works on only the people I direct it at. In this case, everyone but us." His tone of voice turned unsure. "Unless you don't want to remember?"

Harry's eyes widened. "No! Of course I want to."

Draco smiled again, leaving Harry's knees a little wobbly. _It must be the spell. It must be. _"Can we talk now, Draco?"

The blond sighed heavily. "I have a feeling we have a_ lot _to talk about, Harry."

"Yeah." A mischievous grin crossed Harry's face. "...But for now..." He leaned forward and engulfed the boy's lips with his own.

Draco groaned when they broke apart. "Dammit, Potter. Now I have to do the memory charm all over again."

The Gryffindor's laughter rang through the stunned hall.

...

Some say love is heartbreak. Some say love is a void, a chasm which cannot be filled. Some say love is spending your whole life searching for the other half of a whole. I say love is the way your eyes break into a thousand shards of sparkling emerald under the sun, the flush that stains your cheeks when you catch my gaze.

Love is the way you look at me, the emotions I never thought I could ever feel.

It is the secret smiles you give me, the elation that springs to life within.

Love is the strength to stand up to the unknown, to stare the future in the eye without fear. Love is the present, the here and now. It is the uncontrollable urge to scream at Lucius to go screw himself from the top of the astronomy tower. The bastard.

Love is having an extra mug of butterbeer next to me where I used to go alone.

But I need not define love anymore.

Because you are what it means to me.

You, and everything about you that melts every barrier in me.

...

Love, (n)

/luhv/

A profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.

...

A/N: There you go! I hope you liked it :) It doesn't make much sense, I know, but I just wanted to get some of this fluffiness off my chest. A colossal thank you to all of you who reviewed, too- lots of love :) Just a few replies before I go, but I'll keep it short.

Skila: Of course you're welcome to translate my stories. I'd be more than flattered!

my name is paper YAH: I know! They're absolutely adorable :)

wolfpack3422: Thanks! Your review really meant a lot to me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter too.

LIGHTNSHADOWS: Well now you know! Hope you liked :)

Katacia, Renai-chan and leslie: Thanks for the support! You inspire me to keep writing.

So that's it! Tell me what you think, and hopefully I'll be posting again soon. I'll see you then!


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